


Home Is a Word That You Should Have Learned

by Duck_Life



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Adopted Children, Canon Blending, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loss of Powers, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 12:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20778710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: Sometimes mutant kids fall through the cracks. Mystique does what she can to help them.





	Home Is a Word That You Should Have Learned

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as "I want Artie and Leech's movie versions to be pink and green" and somehow turned into a story about Raven rescuing/adopting/threatening children. With lots of comics canon and characters woven in. Hope you enjoy!

**1978**

Raven transforms fluidly into William Stryker, remembering to include the lines beneath his eyes, the gray at his temples, remembering how much his wife’s death has aged him. She’s starting to hate how easy it is for her to copy Stryker. 

At least she’s got a good reason for being here.

Stryker’s guards don’t bat an eye when she walks past them, shoulders tight, trying to emulate that mission-from-God determination in her eyes that Stryker’s always got. She understands Stryker’s motivations, but that doesn’t mean she sympathizes with him. She never could, not after what she’s seen him do. 

The door is locked by a combination code. With a little sneaking around, she’d managed to watch Stryker himself enter the code a few days ago, and now she has it memorized. She slips in, still not raising any eyebrows by the staff at Stryker’s house of horrors. 

Evidently, he comes to visit this room pretty frequently. The thought makes her stomach curdle. 

The boy is restrained, strapped to a metal cot in the dead center of the room. His mismatched eyes are wide with terror, and no wonder. 

His lobotomy’s scheduled for later this afternoon. 

“Jason,” she says quietly, leaning over him. 

Immediately, he flinches back as much as he can. “N-no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Dad,  _ please _ ,” he gasps, trembling. “I didn’t mean to. I n-never meant to, please, I just wanna go home.” 

Raven's careful, knows anyone could burst in the room, possibly even Stryker himself. “I'm not your father,” she whispers, flashing her real eyes. 

* * *

Jason steps out of the thrift store changing room, clad in trousers and a button-down shirt. From her seat on a shoddy wicker chair, Mystique claps her hands. “You look so handsome.”

“Yeah,” Jason mumbles, turning to look at himself in the mirror. “Yeah, I… kinda do.”

She is teaching him reinvention, how to take back his own life.

Raven smiles. “Now, you can't be a Stryker anymore. You can't make it easy for your father's cohorts to find you.” The man himself will, of course, never find him. She made sure of that. 

“I don't know,” he mumbles. “I never thought about having another last name.”

“He can have mine,” a familiar voice trills from behind the shoe rack. 

Raven whirls around. “Marty? What the hell?”

Martinique Wyngarde steps toward her and Jason, beaming. “Howzit?”

“What are you doing here?”

Martinique rolls her eyes. “I'm great, how are you?” she says dryly. “Look, Spiral and I were jaunting through the timestream and thought we'd stop in.” She jerks a thumb behind her, and Raven sees a familiar white-haired woman draped in an over-large poncho. “So? How’s the kid doing?”

When Martinique bends down to look at him, Jason sees that her eyes look like his— one blue, one brown.

“He’s fine,” Raven assures Martinique. “He… he  _ will _ be okay.” 

“I’m okay now,” Jason points out, but he doesn’t sound completely convinced. “And what do you mean, I can have your last name?” 

Martinique grins. “We’re family, kid. You don’t see the resemblance?”

“Marty…” Raven warns. She hates time travel. She especially hates when people like Martinique and Spiral— mostly Spiral, usually— insist on being so cavalier and risky about it. 

“Oh, fine,” Martinique sighs. “You wanna be a Wyngarde, kid?”

“Wyngarde?”

“W-Y-N-G-A-R-D-E,” she says. “Good name. Unnecessary vowels, maybe, but overall a pretty good name.” 

Jason glances up at Raven, almost like he’s asking permission. “Up to you,” she says.

“Okay,” Jason says. And then more confidently, “Okay. I’ll be Jason Wyngarde.”

“Catchy,” Martinique says, her eyes twinkling. 

“Alright, you can get out of here,” Raven sighs.

“Gladly! Spiral and I have dinner reservations,” Martinique informs her. “In Paris! 1920s Paris!” She pats Jason on the head and walks away, whispering something to Spiral that makes her laugh. And then the two women duck around a display rack and disappear. 

“Who was she?” Jason asks.

“You’ll find out one day,” Raven tells him, smoothing her hair. “So. Lunch?” 

* * *

Raven takes care of the kid for a day and a half, buying him books and clothes and food, keeping a low profile. She’s not running a halfway home, though. 

“Look, you can’t keep running around with me forever,” Mystique tells him, trying to be gentle, trying to be kind. She doesn’t have much practice. “Xavier’s is the best place for you.”

“I’m  _ not _ going,” Jason says fiercely. “You can’t make me. I’ll run.” 

“Jason—”

“I don’t want to go back there.”

“Why on earth not?”

He looks up at her, eyes lit up with anger. “They’re the ones who sent me back to Dad.”

Oh.  _ Oh _ . 

* * *

“This place used to be run by a complete asshole,” Raven informs Jason, leading him through the exquisite halls of the Hellfire Club’s Massachusetts chapter. “But leadership has changed. I trust the man running it now, and they’ve got a whole program set up for young mutants to learn their powers.” 

“How is that different from Xavier’s?” Jason asks, trying his best not to sulk.

She smiles. “Trust me. The Hellions are  _ nothing _ like Xavier’s.” 

A receptionist asks them to wait in the Black King’s study. They stand in silence for two minutes, Jason taking the time to admire the glossy spines of the books lining the walls. Then the man himself walks in. 

“ _ Olá _ , what can I do for… Raven Darkholme,” he says, grinning when he spots her. Roberto DaCosta inclines his head and kisses her hand, eliciting an eye roll. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Save it, Sunpot,” she scoffs. “I brought you a new student.”

“Oh!” he says, like he just noticed Jason. “Hey there. Welcome to my establishment.” He looks back at Raven. “My associate actually handles new enrollments.” He hits a button on his desk. “Cordy? Can you come in here?” He winks at Raven.

A moment later, a woman with close-cropped black hair comes whirling into the room. “Hi!” she says, waving to both Raven and Jason on a hand that’s covered with rings. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cordelia Frost.”

Raven doesn’t take her extended hand, just stares at her. “Frost? As in…?”

“Uh, yeah,” Cordelia says, averting her eyes. “Emma was my sister. The Hellions… it was her dream, really. I just stepped up and, well, here I am.” 

Here they all are. 

Watching Roberto pull out a stack of paperwork to get Jason’s enrollment started, Raven realizes that her role ends here. She got him away from Stryker, got him somewhere safe. He’ll be fine. She did it.

Time to go. 

“Well, Jason,” Raven says, meeting his mismatched eyes with her own amber gaze. “It’s time I was on my way.”

“Right,” he says, setting his jaw. 

And then, surprising her entirely, he leans up and hugs her. Raven doesn’t even know how to respond. Before she can think to hug the kid back, he’s stepped away. “Thank you,” Jason says, eyes shining. “Thank you for… for saving me.” 

“Don't mention it,” Raven tells him. 

She walks away, leaving Jason Wyngarde behind at the Hellfire Club. 

  
  


**1995**

There’s fresh coffee in the pot and the sun is shining and Irene is tapping away furiously at her typewriter, and Raven has never been happier. “What’s that, my love?” she asks, craning her neck over Irene’s shoulder to read what she’s written. “What’s ‘The Twelve’?”

“I… don’t know,” Irene says vaguely, her fingers hovering over the keys. “I just know that it’s important I write it down.”

“Hm,” Raven says, chomping down on a piece of toast. She turns to check on the eggs, flipping them so they don’t burn. Over-medium, that’s how she likes them. How Irene likes them too. Maybe they really are soulmates. “So—”

“Oh!” Irene says, interrupting her. “Darling, you need to go to Mississippi.”

Raven turns to stare at her. “Mississippi?”

“Yes,” Irene tells her. “It’s important that you go there. Caldecott County. I can write down an address for you.” 

Sometimes, Irene’s precognitive abilities are incredibly useful, like the time they almost (but didn’t) get in a car wreck, or when Irene suggested they buy stock in Amazon (which still hasn’t been helpful, but she’ll happily play the long game). Other times, though, Irene’s abilities are just confusing and inconvenient. 

“Well, are you coming with me?” Raven asks, pouring herself a cup of coffee. (Milk and no sugar). 

“Oh, no, I’ve got too much to do,” Irene says, still typing. “I have to keep writing.”

“Writing,” Raven repeats drlyy. “You don’t even know what you’re writing! For all you know this could be gibberish. Why should I run off to who-knows-where based solely on your  _ hunch _ while you sit here at home?”

“Have I ever been wrong?” Irene says sweetly. 

Raven scowls. “No,” she says finally. “But it’s going to happen one day! And I’m going to throw a fucking party, my dear,” she says, choking back a too-hot sip of coffee. 

Raven buzzes around the kitchen, pulling on shoes and grabbing the car keys. Before she leaves, she leans over to kiss Irene goodbye. 

Irene returns the kiss without even lifting her hands from her typewriter. “Love you,” she says. “You’ll be home at 4:37 p.m.”

“Yes ma’am,” Raven jokes, knowing it’s a prediction and not an order. And then she’s out the door. 

Caldecott County is a couple hours away. Raven listens to NPR until it pisses her off, and then she switches to one of the cassettes that Irene keeps lined up in the glove compartment. Joni Mitchell. Listening to the songs keeps her mind off wondering what exactly she’s walking into. At least she’s got plenty of weapons and ammunition in the trunk. And, of course, she can change into anyone, whether that’s a small-town hick or a stunning debutante. She really is prepared for anything.

The address Irene gave her turns out to be the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, and Raven’s back to being pissed off. There’s a general store and a road so full of cracks and potholes that it might as well be unpaved. And that’s it.

“Great,” she grumbles. “The things I do for you, Irenie…” She stalks behind the general store and finds a pay phone, wondering if this whole trip was Irene’s way of getting revenge on her for being out so late with the Brotherhood last weekend. After fishing a few quarters out of her pocket, she dials their home number and waits.

Irene picks up on the second ring. “Hello, darling.”

“Yeah, hi,” Raven says, hoping the fervor of her annoyance carries over the phone lines. “There’s  _ nothing _ here. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be here for, or if this is your idea of a practical joke but—”

“Really?” Irene says, genuinely surprised. “Surprised” isn’t a common emotion for her. “But I was so sure…” 

“You might be losing your touch, dear,” Raven says, eyes scanning the perimeter of the dusty general store. “Will you at least tell me what was  _ supposed  _ to be here?” Irene clicks her tongue and starts to say something, but Raven immediately shushes her. “Shh, I think I hear something.” A noise, just outside. Quiet and plaintive, like a cat meowing, or… like a child crying. 

Raven looks around wildly before spotting the source of the noise— there’s a girl leaning against the outer wall of the general store, weeping into her hands, looking terrified. She can’t be older than twelve. 

“Darling, I’ll call you back,” Raven says, hanging up the payphone. She pushes on the door of the booth, then shoves harder when it sticks in the Mississippi heat. “Hello?” she says, calling out to the frightened girl. Seamlessly, she shifts from her usual form into her current go-to: Aunt Becky from “Full House.” “Hello, honey, are you lost?”

The girl looks up, tears streaming down her face. Now Raven can see that her auburn hair is streaked with startling white in the front. “D-don’t come any closer,” the girl says in a thick Southern twang. “You’ll get hurt! Ev’ryone gets hurt.” 

It’s a familiar fear. A familiar statement. She can even recall saying it about herself, in the safety and secrecy of her bed, whispered into Irene’s shoulder as she tries not to cry. “Where are your parents?” Raven asks. 

“Mama died,” the girl says. “Daddy… he’s never ‘round these days.” Raven steps closer and the girl notices. “Ah’m serious! Don’t come closer. Don’t touch me. People who touch me… they get hurt. Hurt real bad.”

“What do you mean?” she says, hunching down so she’s at eye level with the girl. “How do they get hurt?”

“Ah don’t know,” she sniffs. “B-but it’s been o’er a week and Cody ain’t woken up  _ yet _ .” 

Raven tries to fit all that into her head. This girl, she’s obviously a mutant. Whatever she does incapacitates those who touch her, maybe even kills them. 

For a second, the cold, clinical part of her thrills to that idea. An unassuming young girl who could slide in under the radar, take out powerful enemies…

The girl sniffles again, and Raven’s farflung ideas fade. This girl needs her help, not an invitation to join the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. 

“I’m Raven,” she says. “What’s your name?”

“Anna,” the girl tells her. “Anna Marie.” 

Mother dead, father ignoring her, mutant powers manifesting and she doesn’t know how to use them or who might hurt her just for being born different. Raven’s been there, lived this life. And when she did, a little boy in a big mansion offered her food and warm clothes, and hope. Maybe, despite everything in her that is Mystique, there’s a little bit of her foster brother in her. 

“Come on,” she says, offering the girl her hand. Anna Marie doesn’t take it, naturally. “Okay, we’re going to get some ice cream,” she says. “And some gloves.”

* * *

The glove selection in the general store is limited to just kids’ gardening gloves, but those work well enough. Raven slaps them on the counter along with Irene’s credit card. 

The ice cream selection is much more expansive. Anna picks out a strawberry shortcake bar and Raven gets a drumstick, and they sit on the steps of the general store and eat their ice cream. 

Once she calms down, Anna becomes quite the chatterbox. She babbles on about her favorite TV shows and her favorite books. It sounds like she was living in a commune before she ran away, and that none of the adults really gave a damn about her, which sends a pang through Raven’s chest. 

“Miss Raven,” Anna says, licking the last drops of ice cream off the wrapper, “are we gonna be friends?”

Raven smiles, reaches out and takes her hand. The girl is wearing the gardening gloves now, so it’s safe. “Yes, Anna,” she says quietly. “I think we’re going to be good friends.”

* * *

That night, when they’re safe at home, Raven watches Anna sleeping fitfully on the couch, swathed in the afghan that Irene crocheted a year ago. Raven wonders if Irene made the damn blanket precisely because she knew this little girl would need it. She doesn’t ask. 

Instead she asks, her arms twined around the woman she loves, “Is Charles going to take her away from us?”

She didn’t realize until just now, asking it, how much the thought terrifies her. And she’s known this girl less than a day. 

“Yes,” Irene says, “one day. Not for a long time.” 

“Okay,” Raven sighs. Not for a long time. 

They’ll have to make the time they have matter. 

**2002**

Carl Maddicks is an esteemed scientist and geneticist.

Doesn’t make him a good father.

When his son Artie visits home for summer break, Maddicks begins conducting a new experiment. Artie’s mutation is subtle, hardly noticeable— he has a forked tongue. Aside from that, he resembles a perfectly normal human moppet. 

Apparently, he’s not human enough for Dr. Maddicks. He’s been developing a serum meant to eliminate mutation in individual subjects and render them completely human, with no “deformities” or “abnormalities”.

But when he injects his son with what’s supposed to be a “mutant cure,” it goes wrong. Instead of eliminating the boy’s forked tongue, the serum does the opposite. It causes him to look even stranger than before. 

Desperate, Maddicks finetunes the serum and tries again, this time with a test subject. An  _ unwilling _ test subject, one he worked alongside once before. 

* * *

Of course, Raven doesn’t know any of this when she receives a phone call at four o’clock in the morning. “What?” she hisses, trying not to wake Destiny. “Hank? Is that you?”

“... must be quick, I’ve limited time,” Hank McCoy whispers on the other end. “I do apologize for the hour, but I’ve been away from the X-Men for so long now that yours was the first name that came to mind. As you might recall, Scotty and I haven’t spoken since Trish’s article came out about—”

“For God’s sake,” Raven says, “if you have ‘limited time’ get to the damn point.” 

“I am being detained,” he says delicately. “Against my will. By a mad scientist.” 

She snorts. “Madder than  _ you _ ? Oh my God, it’s not your evil doppelganger again, is it?”

“No, no,” Hank says, annoyed. “His name is Carl Maddicks. He’s an old associate of mine.” He tells her the address. “Come  _ get  _ me. Bring whoever you can. Raven, I’m not his only captive. There’s a child here.” 

And that sure wakes her up. 

“Fine. I’ll… I’ll be there,” she says, ending the call. She glances over to the other side of the bed. Irene is still sleeping soundly. “Be back soon,” Raven says, pressing a kiss to her wife’s cheek. She gets dressed in the dark and heads outside. 

* * *

Since leaving Xavier’s school, John Allerdyce has been living in the finished room above Raven and Irene’s garage. It’s not an ideal setup for anyone involved, but, well, sometimes you have limited options. And it does come in handy right now. 

“Wake up, Pyro,” Mystique says, stomping into the room. “We’re needed on a mission.”

“Wha?” he mumbles, wiping sleep from his eyes. “For Magneto?” 

“No,” she says. “Get your lighter and put a damn shirt on. I’ll tell you in the car.” 

* * *

Maddicks’s lab looks remarkably unremarkable. It’s not like Raven was expecting a huge sign advertising an evil scientist, but she expected something more sinister than a small concrete building. “Alright,” she says, trying the door. It’s locked, but there’s a glass window. She smashes it and reaches through to let herself and Pyro inside. 

“Why are we out here at the asscrack of dawn to rescue an X-Man?” Pyro groans. 

“Hank isn’t an X-Man. He’s a friend,” Raven says back, although she feels stupid saying it. People like her don’t have friends, not in times like these. She steps forward— and spots a boy crouching in the corner. 

At first she thinks it’s just the poor lighting in here, but it’s not. The child is pink. He has huge, shining white eyes and a large bulbous head covered in odd-looking lumps. And he’s clutching a kitten. 

“Hi,” Raven says, scrambling to remember how to talk to kids. It’s been awhile since Marie was young. “What’s your name?” 

The boy stares at her for a long moment, and then instead of speaking, he projects a visual image above his head. Pictures dance in the air— a painting easel, a cup of tea. 

“Oh, man, it’s like Pictionary,” Pyro says. “Paintcup! No. Wait. Picturetea.”

“Art tea,” Raven says. “Artie?” The boy nods. “Hi. My name is Raven. Okay, Artie,” she says, “my… friend... here is going to take you out to the car.” Pyro makes a noise of contempt. “Don’t argue with me, matchstick,” she snaps at him. “Take the kid and the cat. I’ll get Hank.” 

Pyro scowls at her one last time but nevertheless takes Artie’s hand and leads him outside. Mystique proceeds through the science-lab-meets-haunted-house. With each step, she considers turning around and leaving Hank to his fate. Knowing him, he’s probably only  _ in _ this situation because of his own hubris. 

But, then, she remembers fighting alongside him. She remembers being angry and impressionable, a lifetime ago, and finding a kindred spirit in the chatty bespectacled guy with weird feet. 

And he did  _ ask _ for her help. 

Mystique rounds a corner and there’s Hank, strapped down to table, blue and furry again for the first time in years. “Holy shit,” she mumbles.

“Raven!” he says, perking up. “My knight in shining... decorative skulls.” 

“You owe me one,” Raven says, hitting a button on the other side of the room that undoes the restraints holding Hank down. “Let’s get the hell out of here before your mad scientist shows up.” 

“Too late,” comes the voice from across the room. A reedy-looking man in a turtleneck charges in holding a blaster pointed right at her. “Don’t think you’re about to ruin all my work, mutant.” 

“What exactly is your work?” Raven asks, edging back toward the table behind her and trying to buy herself time. 

“Developing a mutant cure. Trying to fix my son,” Dr. Maddicks explains. 

Mystique sees red. “The pink kid?” 

“He’s… I can fix it,” Maddicks swears. “I just need more time. More data. That’s why I needed Dr. McCoy.” 

Raven glances at Hank. “Doesn’t look like your ‘cure’ is working, Doc.” 

“I need more test subjects,” he snarls. “You, ma’am, will do nicely.” He aims the blaster at her leg— he doesn’t want to kill her, he wants to use her. That’s his error. If someone’s trying to shoot her, they’d better aim to kill. Mystique grabs a calculator from the table and hurls it at Maddicks. It hits him in the face and he stumbles backward, giving Hank an opportunity to jump up and tackle the scientist. 

“Artie is your son, not a science experiment,” Raven snarls, knocking a few vials of  _ something _ off a shelf and letting them shatter on the floor. “Hank, let’s go.” 

They leave Maddicks lying in the wreckage of his lab, battered and bruised. When they get to the car, Artie is buckled up in the backseat and Pyro is leaning against the hood. Mystique nods at him. “Torch the place.”

“Raven,” Hank says, whipping toward her. “No.”

“Hey, you called  _ me _ for a rescue, I’m doing it my way,” she says. 

“Artie is right there,” Hank hisses. “I’m not going to let you burn his father to death before his eyes.” He glances at John. “And I won’t let you make that boy a murderer, either.” 

“Too late,” she says, but she’s not certain whether that’s true. And it’s late, and she’s tired, and, well, she hates killing people before breakfast, anyway. “... Fine.” She looks at Pyro. “At least wreck his car.”

Obediently, Pyro tosses a fireball at Maddicks’ sedan and controls the explosion, making sure it ruins the car without endangering themselves. 

* * *

After dropping Hank off at his apartment, Raven drives to Salem Center to deliver Artie back to the school. “You wanna come in and say hi to your friends?” she asks Pyro, smirking at him. John folds his arms like a petulant child. “Alright, then. Stay in the car. Let’s go, Artie.”

But Artie looks concerned. At first, Raven wonders if he doesn’t  _ want _ to go back to Xavier’s. But then he projects an image of the kitten sleeping in his arms. 

“Oh. Yes, honey, they allow pets,” she assures him. “I’m pretty sure the Pryde girl has a dragon. Let’s go.” 

* * *

Raven takes Artie inside and explains the whole situation to Charles and Ororo. She’s on edge the whole time. Being in this place, among these people, makes her feel  _ seen _ in ways she can’t stand. All she wants right now is to go back home and curl up on the couch with Irene. 

Ororo leads Artie away while Charles watches Raven with a glint in his eye. “You’re doing good, you know,” he points out.

“You mean I’m doing  _ well _ , Professor,” she snarks.

Charles smiles blandly. “No,” he tells her. “I mean you’re doing good.” Raven lets the weight of that hit her and she tries to ignore how it makes her feel. “Please, stay for a while. We could have tea.”

“I’ve got… stuff to do,” Raven says, letting it hang there. He definitely knows that her “stuff” is on the wrong side of legal, but he doesn’t push it. Raven leaves, satisfied with the knowledge that Artie Maddicks and his cat are alright. 

**2004**

Raven Darkholme relives the worst moments of her life over and over. Lately, she’s been obsessing over the memory of being shot with a dart, injected against her will with the so-called “mutant cure.” The feeling of her defenses— her identity— melting away, leaving behind a vulnerable, pathetic woman lying on the floor. 

And the hardest part isn’t being abandoned by Magneto, no, the hardest part is the bitterness she feels toward the person she’s closest to in the entire world. 

“Did you know?” Raven asks Irene over and over again. “Did you know this would happen? That I would become… become  _ nothing _ ?”

“You aren’t nothing,” Irene insists, touching her cheek. “I promise—”

“You  _ knew _ ,” Raven chokes out, pulling away from Irene’s reaching hand. “You knew the whole time, and you didn’t tell me, you didn’t try to stop it from happening. How could you do this to me, Destiny?” And she hates her wife and she hates herself, and tears pour hot and angry down her face. “How could you?” 

* * *

Mystique meets up with Spiral and Lady Mastermind to formulate a plan. “Where’s your other half?” Martinique asks as she sips a Moscow mule and looks bored. 

“She’s… a traitor,” Mystique says. 

Spiral lets out a harsh little laugh. “Never liked her,” she explains. 

“Look, we need to make sure that what happened to me won’t happen to anybody else,” Mystique explains, snapping into business mode. She tries not to think about the mutants who have already been “cured.” She tries not to think about Anna Marie. “And I figure the best way to do that is to go right to the source.”

“The source,” Martinique repeats. “That would be… ?”

“Leech,” Mystique says.

Martinique pales. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re talking about killing a kid?”

“We aren’t against it,” Spiral pipes up. “Just wanted to be sure.” 

“Rita, shhh,” Martinique snaps. “We’re not killing a kid, Raven.” 

“He ruined my life!” Mystique shouts.

“He didn’t have a choice,” Martinique tells her. “Besides, he’s with the X-Men now. You can’t just waltz in there and execute him.” There’s an unspoken thing there, something that doesn’t need to be said—  _ Especially now that you’re human _ . Especially now that she can’t transform, that she’s meek and normal and useless. 

“That’s why I need your help,” Raven explains. “Spiral, you’re in?” 

“Absolutely,” Spiral says, grinning wickedly. 

Martinique shakes her head. “I’ll do something, Raven. I’ll tell—”

“Who? Who will you tell?” Raven barks. “Charles is dead. Summers is dead. Storm won’t listen to you.” 

“Don’t  _ do _ this,” Martinique pleads. 

Raven holds out her arm and Spiral links her own arm around it. “Don’t wait up,” she tells Martinique. Spiral’s arms circle up in a dance of her own, and the two of them vanish, leaving Lady Mastermind alone. 

* * *

Leech is watching TV, his back to her. A knitted cap covers his head, so she doesn’t realize what’s different about the boy until he turns around. “You’re… green,” Mystique says, staring at him. 

“Uh-huh,” Leech confirms, glancing down at the knife in her hand. “You… one of the X-Men?” She doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything to conceal the weapon in her hand. Leech looks worried. “You hurt Leech?” 

“Well?” Spiral hisses, coming up behind her. 

“What…” Raven mumbles, feeling as if she stepped off a ledge into nothingness. “ _ Why _ are you green?” 

“Always green,” Leech shrugs. “Doctors… make Leech wear bracelet. Look normal.”

“Image inducer,” Spiral guesses. 

“Leech like it better here,” Leech tells her. 

At that moment, a boy Mystique hadn’t seen jumps off of the couch and runs around to hug her around her waist. All Raven can really make out is a blur of pink, and then the boy projects the image of a raven with its wings spread. 

Artie. And he remembers her. 

“Don’t hurt Artie,” Leech warns.

“I wouldn’t,” Raven says, tucking the knife back into her jacket. “I was… I was just making a sandwich, in the kitchen. I came in here to, um. To see what you were watching.” Behind her, Spiral huffs impatiently. Raven chooses to ignore her. 

“Watching ‘Fox and the Hound’,” Leech tells her, pointing to the bright animation on the screen. 

Raven feels a pang in her chest. “My daughter loves this movie,” she says, thinking back to the numerous times she had to rewind the tape for Anna Marie. 

Artie projects an image of himself, her and Leech all sitting on the couch, watching the movie. 

“Yeah, okay,” Raven says. All the fight is gone from her. She lets Artie guide her to the couch, and she sits on the end and watches the cartoon animals on screen bound around. 

“I’m leaving,” Spiral says. 

“Yeah, you go ahead,” Raven calls over her shoulder. She sits beside the boy who was instrumental in ruining her life. She watches “Fox and the Hound.” At one point, Artie tucks his feet beneath her leg and she is forcibly reminded of a little girl who used to wear gloves all the time.

As if she’s been summoned, Rogue arrives right when Tod and Copper are finding out their friendship can’t last. “Mama,” she says, shocked to see Mystique on the couch. “What are you doing here?” 

Raven sits up straighter. “I just… um…” And ridiculously, embarrassingly, she starts crying. Tears well in her eyes and slide down her cheeks. Without a word, Rogue wedges between Artie and her mother on the couch and wraps her arms around Raven. 

Raven notices that Rogue’s bare hands are touching her arms, but she doesn’t say anything. She just sits there and lets her daughter hold her while the movie continues to play. 

* * *

That night, Raven returns home to find Irene tapping away at her keyboard. She traded in her typewriter for a laptop a long time ago. The sight makes her heart ache— warm familiarity, a sense of loss. Irene can see the whole future folding out in front of her. Raven is just desperate to go back to what she had in the past. 

“Irenie,” Raven says, putting her hands on her wife’s shoulders and leaning against her. Irene’s hands come up to cover hers. “I’m sorry. I should never have said—”

“It’s okay,” Irene assures her. She brings Raven’s hand to her mouth and kisses her wrist. 

“I couldn’t do it,” Raven explains. “The kid, he— it wasn’t his fault. That I’m like this. It wasn’t his fault.” 

Irene just squeezes her hand. “How’s Rogue?” 

“She’s…” Indomitable. Amazing. Safe. Loved. Okay. “She’s Rogue. She always will be.” 

“And you’ll always be my Raven,” Irene says. She closes her computer and stands up, puts her arms around Raven, kisses her deeply. “You’ll risk everything for your people. For the ones you love. You’ll always be ruthless and strong and brutal and passionate. And I will always, always love you. That’s what I see when I look into the future.” 

Raven pulls Irene closer and holds her, and loves her, and isn’t anyone but herself. 


End file.
